


First Meeting

by Slashify



Series: Your Life with Martin [1]
Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: F/M, First Meetings, Fluff, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-26
Updated: 2014-08-26
Packaged: 2018-02-14 22:24:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2205231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slashify/pseuds/Slashify
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How you met Martin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Meeting

You huff out a loud sigh and take a break from pushing the mattress up the stairs, cursing your purchase of a larger bed for the hundredth time. Wiping some sweat off your face, you're so lost in your thoughts that you startle when a hand reaches to steady the wobbly mattress.

"Do you need some help?"

The man offering assistance is lean and pale, with the most amazing aquamarine eyes. His ginger hair is slicked back, but rebelling against it, starting to curl around his neck and ears. He's wearing a faded shirt, torn jeans, and an expectant grin. You realize you're staring when his smile fades into confused self-consciousness. You remember the question.

"Oh! Yeah, no, I'm okay, I guess. Just these damn stairs... But it'll be okay, I think." This man might be gorgeous, but you're not in the habit of letting strange men into your flat. You're not even finished moving in yet, and getting murdered is not on the list of things to do in your new flat.

"You're sure? I'd be happy to help. I'm a," he pulls a card out of his pocket and hands it to you, "professional, you see."

You look at the card. It identifies the man as Martin Crieff with Icarus Removals. You bite your lip, still unsure. You know you might be a little overly cautious about this, but he could have picked up that card anywhere.

"Hm. Could you just, just wait here for a second?" You ask. He nods.

You go inside and Google Icarus Removals on your phone. The number matches the one on the card. Looking out the window, you call the number. On the pavement, Martin Crieff answers his mobile. You tell him you dialed the wrong number and watch him nod and hang up.

You're back outside before his phone is back in his pocket.

"Sorry about that." You say with a smile. "Was that a professional offer to help, or...?"

"Oh! Oh no! It just looked like you could use a hand. Free of charge, of course." He looks at you with another small grin. He holds out a hand for you to shake.

"I'm Martin. Martin Crieff."

You introduce yourself, and realize that the pair of you are more holding each other's hands than shaking at this point. You gently let go and motion back to the mattress.

"What do you think is the best way to move this thing? You're the expert, after all." You say, teasing him a little.

Martin takes the back of the mattress, walking backwards as you help him shove the thing up the stairs. 

You ask him what there is to do for fun in Fitton. He tells you not much. There's a nice park, and a few secondhand bookshops. You ask him what he does for fun and watch his eyes light up.

Martin pulls the mattress up the stairs with more gusto as he talks about flying. He soon grows silent, though, and mumbles something about being sure you're not interested.

"Are you kidding? It sounds fascinating! I've never known a pilot." You rush to reassure him. His skeptical look turns back into a joyful smile as he tells you more about his work, going especially fond when he talks about the plane he flies, which he calls GERTI.

You both pause just inside the door of the flat so that Martin can shove a box aside. Finally, the two of you maneuver into the bedroom. Martin does most of the work lifting the mattress onto the bed frame, and then you collapse onto it with a sigh. 

You stretch your arms out with a small pleased sound. When you look up, you find Martin standing awkwardly with his hand on the back of his neck, obviously trying not to stare at you.

You sit up, biting your lip. You don't want him to go. You don't know if it's because of the determination he had displayed when moving the mattress, or his unsure smile, but you find him incredibly attractive. You don't know anyone in Fitton, and as you hear the sound of rain starting up outside, you figure it can't hurt to make a new friend.

"Martin," you say, hating the tremble in your voice, "I'd like to thank you for the help. I've got a few beers in the fridge. I don't have a couch or tv yet, but the wifi's set up. We could watch something on my laptop, if you don't have plans...?"

Martin stutters out an acceptance of your invitation. You grin, getting up and leading the way into the kitchen.

Beers uncapped, the two of you arrange some pillows into makeshift chairs. The laptop settles atop a box full of books, steadily enough. 

Halfway through Hot Fuzz, you realize that the two of you have moved close enough that your legs are touching. You're practically holding hands. You laugh at the same jokes in the movie. You like his laugh. By the time the end credits roll, you're leaning into each other.

You glance out the window, then back at Martin. The rain is pounding down outside, and Martin only has his threadbare tee shirt.

"Do you live far?" You ask, hoping he doesn't. You've had a good time with him, but you don't know him. You'll feel bad for making him walk home in the rain, but it's the safe and sane thing to do. Your friends would give you hell if you let a man you'd just met sleep over.

"Not too far, no." He answers. Internally, you give a sigh of relief.

You find an umbrella in a box next to the door and hand it to Martin, brushing his fingers with your own.

"Here," you say, writing your number on a slip of scrap paper, "give me a call and we can set up a time for me to get that back."

You hope your move wasn't too bold, but Martin beams at you and slips the paper into his pocket.

You can't seem to stop smiling as you lock the door behind him. You take the empty bottles into the kitchen before going to the window.

You're just in time to see Martin pop up the umbrella, take a peek around, and do a small dance. Just like that you're smitten.

You'll be seeing him again.

**Author's Note:**

> The reader was fairly cautious in this, but please don't invite strange men into your homes, no matter how attractive they may be.


End file.
